Night Watcher (9 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

How dare Scott try to frighten her! Nicole was not convinced with Julie’s theory that she was being watched to provide evidence for a divorce. But she did know that Scott was capable of playing games. After all, he had plenty of practice in games playing and devising new games for development by his software company. But if this was a game, it was a sick one.

She stormed to the lift. The lift wasn’t there, and that made her even angrier. She stabbed her finger onto the button while in her mind she swore at Scott. If he had been here she would have torn his eyes out. But he was not here which was just as well because it would give her time to calm down, although if that bloody lift did not hurry up there was little hope of that.

She pummelled the lift doors with her free hand swinging her briefcase with the other as if she intended using it as a weapon. It made little difference and the doors remained closed, blocking her progress, while she fumed in front of them. Eventually, when the lift doors slid open they did so with a suddenness that took her unawares and she almost fell inside. Gathering herself together she inserted her pass key for the top floor, waiting until the doors slid shut before practising the deep breathing exercises that were supposed to help with her stress levels.

Struggling to regain control she forced herself to think about Scott in a more rational way and decided she would play it cool and look for a way to turn the tables on him. She smiled. It was a smile that did not reach her eyes. If he wanted to play dirty she was a past master at the art and she would easily get the better of him.

Nicole, once more the model of the perfect manager, smart, professional and controlled, left the lift on the top floor. This was where the unseen business of the store was carried on. It housed the accountants and other finance staff, a couple of public relations officers and a legal adviser. Through a set of glass doors, towards which Nicole was heading, were the conference rooms, the boardroom and the executive offices. Only the Managing Director and Assistant Managing Directors had offices beyond these doors.

She paused in front of her own office and looked with pride at her name on the door – Nicole Ralston, Assistant Managing Director – she had come a long way since she started work in the store as a shop assistant. Patrick was to be thanked for that. Once he spotted her potential she had been on her way up and she had made the most of her opportunities. Of course, he no longer wanted her in the way he previously had, although there was still the odd occasion. However, he had grown to rely on her ability and expertise. She wondered briefly whether he knew about her and Ken, but then shrugged the thought away. Patrick spent more time in some of his other stores nowadays and was not here often enough to be fully aware of what was going on . . . and yet . . . he was sharp.

A slight whisper of air touched the back of her neck and she knew she was no longer alone in the corridor, but before she could turn to look, Ken grasped her shoulder, pushed aside her hair and kissed her on the nape of her neck.

‘Not here,’ she muttered, pushing him away. ‘Patrick’s due today and I don’t think he’d approve.’

He stroked her neck with a single finger while his soft brown eyes reflected a mute plea and his face developed that little boy lost look that always succeeded in making her insides churn.

‘No,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper while ghostly fingers crawled over her skin making her shiver with desire. She could see from his face that he knew the effect he was having on her.

He pushed her office door open, guiding her through it. ‘Is this any better?’ His voice deepened with a husky quality that told her he wanted her.

She pushed the door with her foot until she heard it click shut. ‘Not really,’ she whispered as she turned towards him. Her arms circled his neck and she teased her fingers up through his hair, perfectly aware of the effect it would have on him. ‘Patrick’s just as liable to come in here when he arrives and he’d go berserk if he caught us. You know he would.’

‘I don’t know anything of the sort.’ Ken slipped his hands inside her jacket and pulled her blouse out of the top of her skirt.

His hands caressed her skin. Her nerve ends tingled with a need she didn’t quite understand and she had difficulty suppressing the scream rising within her. Sex with Ken was always frantic and noisy, and she knew that although she wanted him it was too risky with Patrick due at any moment. She pulled away from him, ‘No, you mustn’t. Not here. Not now.’ She tucked her blouse back into the top of her skirt. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

Ken pouted, his face even more like a child’s. ‘It’s not fair, you always do this to me.’

Nicole stretched out a hand and stroked his face. ‘Later,’ she promised. ‘Now you must go to your own office. You don’t want Patrick seeing you like that.’ Ken left the room, but Nicole knew he was not pleased. She would make it up to him after and she knew just how to do that.

Sighing, she picked up her briefcase from the floor where it had fallen when she had put her arms round Ken. She threw it on the desk, snapped the locks open and pulled out the papers she had tried to work on last night. She sank back into her leather upholstered chair and attempted to concentrate, but it was hopeless.

She stood up and stretched, raising her arms above her head in an attempt to loosen her muscles and get rid of tension. Then she paced across the room and round her desk, stopping to look out of the window. She had a good view of the City Churches and the Overgate Centre. Patrick was worried about the Centre, a swish shopping mall, afraid it would take away too much business. That was why he wanted them to formulate trading plans. The trading plans Nicole could not get her mind to concentrate on.

Patrick had already hinted that economies would have to be made and he might have to downsize the staff. Nicole had no wish to be a loser in that situation. She knew that even if it came to a fight between her and Ken about who was to be kept on, she would fight her corner with the same ruthlessness that had put her there in the first place. And, if Drake’s went down the tubes, there was always the possibility of opportunities in the mall which, rumour had it, was planning an extension. Absentmindedly she tapped the window with her finger tips.

A pigeon swooped down, landing on the windowsill with the grace of a ballet dancer. He cocked his head to one side and tapped the glass with his beak.

Nicole stroked her finger down the glass. ‘Looking for your breakfast biscuit are you, Freddie?’ She smiled at the bird. Even as a child she had always had a soft spot for birds and small animals. They were weaker than she was and no threat to her. She did not have to be in competition with them, and could drop the tough exterior she’d had to develop to survive in the business world. Only she knew how difficult her professional role was to maintain, and how vulnerable she really was.

She walked to her desk, slid a drawer open and extracted two digestive biscuits from the top of an open pack. Returning to the window she pushed it open, crumbled the biscuits between her fingers and scattered the crumbs on the ledge. ‘There you go then, Freddie. Enjoy.’ A smile played over her lips as she watched the bird peck at the crumbs before flexing his wings and soaring off again. Nicole watched him for a moment and then slid the old-fashioned casement window closed.

If only life could be as simple for her as it was for Freddie. She leaned her forehead on the cool glass, her eyes absently scanning the crowds below. The sensation of being watched sent a chill up her spine as she focused on a shabby figure in a long raincoat staring back at her. He stood, leaning against Primark’s wall, not quite part of the bus queue. As she fixed her gaze on him, he turned and shuffled off.

Her nerves stretched like piano wire and tension returned to her muscles. Was this a part of Scott’s game? Or was she starting to imagine things? She shrugged. If she allowed fear to become part of her life, Scott would win. She had no intention of allowing that and knew, if she played the game, she would get an opportunity to turn it back on Scott.

It seemed no time at all after she returned to her desk to work that the telephone rang. ‘Mr Drake wants you in the boardroom.’ His secretary’s voice always annoyed Nicole, it was mellow and polite, giving no indication of the woman’s feelings. In fact Nicole wondered if she had any or whether she was just an attractive robot who was programmed for perfection.

Nicole gathered up her papers. The presentation was as ready as it was possible to be in the timescale allowed for the piece of work, but she was edgy. She would explain it was still rough and required some development, but that it was the outline of something that could be exciting and successful. Nicole had no doubts about her ability to sell herself and her ideas so she walked smartly up the corridor and into the boardroom.

Ken was already there and Patrick gave a small frown as she entered. A small piece of her confidence eroded, but she smiled at him and took her place at the large oak table. Nicole ignored Patrick’s secretary, but nodded briefly at the chief accountant, a public relations officer and the legal adviser as she opened her briefcase and took out a file.

‘We all know why we are here,’ Patrick opened the meeting. ‘The company has been experiencing problems and we need to address these positively. That will require the combined efforts of you all.’ He paused as if debating with himself whether to talk further, but seemed to decide against it. Turning to Ken, Patrick said, ‘Mr Moody has been explaining his ideas to me, therefore, I thought we’d start with his presentation. It’s all yours, Ken.’ Patrick placed his elbows on the boardroom table and steepled his fingers as he looked, with an expression of eagerness, in Ken’s direction.

Ken opened the folder in front of him and took out several acetates placing one of them on the glass top of the overhead projector. Switching the machine on Ken started to speak, sketching out his ideas and overall plan.

Nicole’s mind wandered and it was difficult for her to concentrate. She had psyched herself up for her own presentation, so was anxious for Ken to conclude his. But, as Ken continued to talk, a feeling of incredulity crept over her. She shook her head unable to believe what she was hearing because they were her ideas and her plan he was putting forward as his own. The bastard, she thought, remembering all the times they had played the ‘what if’ game and tossed ideas around. He could not have thought this up on his own. He must have deliberately stolen her ideas for himself.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Julie lingered over her second cup of coffee appreciating the creamy taste and texture of a brew well made. The drink soothed and warmed her, and she relaxed for the first time since arriving in Dundee. She had once been a happy natured person, but all that changed when Dave left. Then, after he died she had been so tied up in her grief and her plans to hurt the person who had brought so much suffering into her life, there had not been room for anything else. However, now that she had been able to strike back at Nicole, even if it was only in a small way, it seemed to have lessened the pain.

Her peace of mind wavered slightly as she thought of Nicole’s husband Scott. On the few occasions Julie had met him he had been polite, although a bit standoffish. She suffered a slight twinge of guilt. For all she knew he was a decent man who deserved a better wife. Maybe she should not use him to get at Nicole, particularly as he was probably as much sinned against as Julie was. She pushed the guilt feelings away as she rationalized her actions to herself. What she had suggested to Nicole would not actually do him any harm. In any case, he had already accused his wife of being paranoid so he would probably think any reaction of hers just proved his point.

And anyway, Nicole had been so concerned about this phantom watcher, who was probably just a figment of her imagination, it had been too good an opportunity to miss. I wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall at Nicole’s house tonight, Julie thought, with a certain amount of grim satisfaction.

‘What are you smiling at?’ Betty lifted her cup and wiped the table with a wet cloth. ‘You’d think you’d just seen your dream man.’

‘You’ve got men on the brain, Betty. Where would I find a nice man here, I ask you? Unless you mean Harry, of course.’ Julie watched the guard as he paraded between the aisles of the food hall.

‘Some seem to manage all right.’ Betty looked in a meaningful way at the lift doors which had just swished shut behind Nicole.

‘Careful, Betty,’ Julie warned, ‘idle gossip could lose you your job.’

‘Well, anyway,’ Betty sniffed, and gave the table another rub, ‘I can’t stand here chatting to you all day. Some of us have work to do.’

Julie knew Betty would not stay offended for very long. And, not wanting to annoy the older woman further, she waited until Betty vanished into the kitchen behind the servery before she stood up and left the restaurant.

The store was still quiet, but it would not be long before the aisles she was inspecting would be mobbed with customers. Julie wanted to make sure everything was in order. She beckoned to a salesgirl and pointed out an empty space on one of the shelves. The girl nodded and mumbled something about the late arrival of stock.

‘I don’t care,’ said Julie, peering at the girl’s name badge, ‘Debbie. Put something in its place until the stock arrives. Customers don’t like to see empty shelves. It annoys them and puts ideas in their heads that the business might be going downhill. Always remember, no customers, no job.’

Debbie stared at her with eyes magnified by her spectacles, although there did not seem to be any acknowledgement of what Julie was trying to tell her. It reminded Julie of an old saying of her granny – the lights are on but no one’s home – which was what she used to say when describing a friend of Julie’s who was a bit wanting in the intelligence stakes. Julie sighed. Where were all the keen girls who wanted to learn a trade when they were looking for salesgirls? If this one was any example heaven help all businesses.

God knows, Julie had little interest in department stores or food halls or selling, but she could still give her best to the job, so it should not have been too difficult for the sales assistants. ‘Oh, go on. Just put something on the shelf,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t want to see it looking like this when I make my next inspection.’

‘Yes, Miss Forbes.’ Debbie gave her a terrified look and scuttled off. Before continuing with her inspection, Julie made a mental note to speak to one of the more senior sales assistants.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry on the stairs and knew he was on his way to open the main door to the store. Other people could open the side doors and minor entrances, but Harry liked to attend to unlocking the large revolving doors. Julie sometimes watched him and she guessed it made him feel important to turn the key, test the mechanism and then welcome the first customers of the day.

Julie hurried through the rest of her inspection and ended up where she usually did, outside the door of her office. She opened the door and switched on the light. It illuminated the small cubby hole of a room with a harsh brilliance that only intensified the stuffy atmosphere. The office, a rather grandiose title, had no window and was only large enough to contain a desk, chair, filing cabinet and her computer. Nevertheless, when she entered her own private space she always experienced a feeling of relief, which could often be so intense it almost swamped her.

There was only one message on her answering machine. However, it was an unexpected one. Adrian never phoned her at work, in fact he never phoned at all. Not since she had explained to him that this was something she had to do, although she had not been too specific about what that something was.

He had understood how Dave’s death affected her and had been sympathetic, ‘By all means,’ he had said. ‘Take some time off. I’ll hold your job for you.’ However, he had not understood why she needed to come to Dundee, nor why she needed to work beside Nicole. Nor had he understood her need for revenge, preferring to think it was an obsession or morbid curiosity.

Julie remembered him, standing in the smaller gallery with the light from the long windows shining behind him making his fair hair look white in the sun. ‘What you are planning is sick, Julie.’ He fingered his bow tie in a gesture that was all too familiar when he was feeling uncomfortable. ‘This woman is of no importance. Forget her.’

‘I can’t, Adrian. She killed Dave.’ Julie’s voice had been harsh and unforgiving as she met Adrian’s stare.

‘Dave killed himself, Julie. You have to accept it.’ He laid his hand on hers. It was soft and warm and Julie could almost feel the sympathy oozing out of him.

‘But he wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for her.’ Julie knew she was right, although she knew Adrian would never understand because he did not have a vengeful nature.

Adrian looked at her with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. ‘Well, if you must, you must. But I still think you are making a mistake.’

And now, after three months, he had phoned her. She realized with a little pang of guilt that she had never tried to contact him since she left Edinburgh and he must be wondering about her. Lifting the phone, she dialled the number. An unexpected reluctance to speak to him crept over her, probably because she knew of his disapproval. Maybe he wouldn’t be there, she thought, and in the next moment, maybe I should just hang up. However, the receiver at the other end was picked up on the second ring as if he had been waiting for her call.

‘Julie, I was worried about you, particularly when you didn’t phone me. Nothing’s happened, has it?’

‘I’m fine, Adrian,’ she said.

‘You’re not depressed, are you? You know with Dave and all.’ He sounded awkward as if he had trouble mentioning Dave’s name.

‘No, I’m not depressed. I’m doing just fine.’ Fine, fine, it echoed in her brain as if this was the only thing she could say. But she was not fine and wouldn’t be until she had finished what she came here to do.

‘When are you coming back? The gallery needs you.’

Julie thought longingly about the gallery, the paintings, the sculptures, the works of art. Things she loved working with.

‘Not yet, Adrian. I haven’t finished what I came here to do.’

The silence hung between them neither willing to break it. At last Adrian said, ‘You’re not still looking to pay that woman back, are you?’

‘Of course I am,’ her voice was crisp with a certainty she was not particularly feeling and she could feel her hands warm and sweaty.

‘It’s not like you, Julie. It’s turning you into something you’re not.’ His voice hesitated, ‘it’ll destroy you if you’re not careful.’

‘I don’t think so.’ She cradled the phone between her neck and shoulder as she wiped her hands on her skirt. ‘Is that all you phoned to say? I’m busy, you know.’ She hated herself for the brusqueness in her tone. Adrian was a good friend.

‘No, that wasn’t all. I just wanted to tell you that Sam’s started a new show, so I’ve had to employ a temporary replacement for the gallery. The job’s still yours,’ he added hastily. ‘The only thing is, this temp is very good and would be willing to stay permanently,’ he paused, ‘however, I’ve told him you’ll be back at the beginning of January, but if you’re not then I’ll consider making his job permanent.’

‘What you’re telling me is that, if I’m not back by January, I don’t have a job at the gallery any more.’ Julie’s voice was harsh. She loved the gallery and would mourn the loss of a job where she had built up specialist knowledge in the art world. There would not be many other jobs like it. However, she had an unfinished task and until she had dealt with Nicole she could not consider leaving Dundee, even for the luxury of working in an Edinburgh gallery.

‘That’s right,’ Adrian said and hung up.